After Dusk
by lily22
Summary: The candles are lit, the church is full, the stage is set, for unholy matrimony with the devil. [complete]
1. Church

Though the sun hadn't officially set, that was to be expected, since it hadn't really risen in the first place. The sky had been overcast and gloomy all week; the rain had finally started falling that morning and hadn't stopped since. But the continuous sound of precipitation beating against the roof and sidewalks didn't seem disturb the devout churchgoers, not a bit.

Now, about twelve hours after the skies had seemed to open up, strong voices rose from the brightly lit church building in praise to God. Standing before them in his ceremonial robes, the priest gravely lit the candles so that those using a hymnal could see the words, even in the blackout that was a direct result of the storm. 

Cupping his hands around the flickering flame, he attempted to shield it from the draft that leaked from the windows despite his best efforts to plug the hole. He waited for it to gain sustenance, life. It was growing brighter, little by little—

The door flew open and slammed into the adjacent wall.

Two candles remained strong. All the rest went out.

Everybody turned to stare in terrified fascination at the figure standing in the doorway. The candlelight played across his features dramatically, and the priest suddenly had the urge to knock over the lights so he wouldn't be faced with this sight. But it wasn't really seeing, it was… feeling. He could sense something wrong with the figure at the doorway, even though he could barely see him.

The youth (or was he?) glared wildly around the room, as if he were looking for something, or perhaps trying to make sense of his surroundings.

There was no silence, thanks to the storm, but if there had been one, it would've been one of those awkward ones that no one wanted to break, but no one wanted to be caught in the midst of, either. 

The newcomer took another step into the church building.

Both candles flared into brilliant defiance before gutting out in response to his presence, but that momentary luminance was all the time they needed to really _see_ him.

A huge gash had been opened from his ear to his chin, slowly oozing liquid that appeared black in the dim lighting. Coupled with the way his lips curled into a feral snarl, the way his eyes shone blood red, the way the doorframe that he gripped with whitening knuckles splintered under his grip, nobody was willing to believe he was quite human. He took a hand from the doorframe, and as one, the entire congregation shrank back in fear. Instead of unleashing some terrible destruction, however, he merely wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, leaving behind a bloody streak.

An elderly man sitting particularly close to the back fainted.

Drawing his gaze in that direction, his eyes fell upon the priest.

Feeling the intense stare, the priest brandished his Bible like a shield and cried out boldly, "Stay away, demon!"

Even in the darkness, they could all see the demon's grin, and the priest wasn't the only one to shudder. Being threatened by priests was something this demon was used to, it seemed, and this something familiar put him at ease.

"You are… a priest. Should I call you Father?" His tone was light, his remark was made dryly with a lazy ease that might've been funny under drastically different circumstances.

"Stay—stay away!" The priest repeated, but this time, it was more of a plea than anything else.

"Oh?" The priest could feel the demon advancing, and though he meant to hold his ground, he found himself shrinking away. "Do you then have the divine right to turn those whom you will away from God?"

"You are not a child of God! Leave this sanctua--"

"I'm not? God gave the judgment to you?"

"I… I will not fall to your temptation!"

"…You will deny me the right to confession? You choose who you grant that right to?"

"Con… confession? You came here to…?"

"So it seems, doesn't it?" The demon reached out suddenly.

The priest might've screamed as the icy fingers grazed his chin, but no sound came out though his lips parted. Within an instant, the demon's hand had retracted, and it seemed entirely possible that the priest had only imagined the touch, but for the lingering cold that burned with its intensity.

"Well?" 

"I… I don't suppose it's up to me who can… can…" he paused, waiting for someone to interrupt, to object, but no one did. "That is…" Dumbly, he willed his legs into movement and walked over to the confessional, motioning to the door with a trembling hand. Slowly, he circled around to the back.

The demon paused for a moment at the opened door, staring in at the sheer curtain that would partially hide the priest from his view. Then, he walked in and closed the mahogany door behind him on the first furious whispers of prayer for the brave priest they didn't ever expect to see again. 


	2. Bloody

Jounouchi hissed as he climbed out of the police car. The flashlight's lambent beam wasn't enough to illuminate much, but the ugly drying maroon, splattered over the one exterior wall, seemed to _glow_. Almost unwillingly, Jounouchi's gaze followed it up to a window. Yuugi's window. 

From the other side of the car, Jounouchi heard Kaiba finish talking on his walkie-talkie (though "being talked at" was more accurate a description than "talking") and slam the door. Soft footsteps announced Kaiba's way around the car, but as they continued, Jounouchi found he had to strain to hear them. 

"Ready?" Kaiba asked when he was standing in front of Jounouchi.

Hesitantly, Jounouchi nodded, feeling a bit ill.

Kaiba noticed, and shrugged. "We're the first ones on the scene after the crime. Don't expect it to be pretty." He looked up at the window, and then looked back at Jounouchi. "You shouldn't even be here. This is official police business. You wouldn't be here at all, except I know that you're aspiring to become a field investigator, and I've persuaded the forces above to let me show you how dangerous it is. In hopes of dissuading you, of course."

"Wait, what?" Jounouchi sputtered, looking bewildered. "I am? You did?"

Kaiba met Jounouchi's evenly. "Of course. Why else would you be here?"

Seconds whizzed by with almost audible ticks. Kaiba was about to give Jounouchi up as a hopeless case and simply bid him goodnight when comprehension dawned. 

"Oh, I get it!" Jounouchi exclaimed mouth tugging into a knowing smirk. "Oh yeah, that's right. Want to be a police officer, me. But I'm too naïve to know what it's really like, though, so I guess you'll have to show me. …But don't you know that being nudged away only makes people more eager to do whatever they want?"

"Of course. Just want to give it a shot." When Jounouchi showed no signs of moving, Kaiba sighed. "Come on, hurry up." He walked briskly to the front door of the Kame Game Shop and inspected it under flashlight. "And stop acting so suspicious. For all I know, I'm still under surveillance."

"…You are?" Jounouchi, made suddenly somber as he remembered why he was really there, followed. "Why?"

"An outburst," Kaiba said. He was now scrutinizing the doorknob. "Last year."

"What happened?"

Kaiba selected a small gun from his arsenal and passed it to Jounouchi. Then he took another for himself, and aimed it at the door. He knocked, announcing that it was the police and would you please come out? There was no response, and Kaiba's words, if not eyes, turned to Jounouchi. "Big murder case. No clues whatsoever. None of the other dimwits could figure it out. Omnipotent police chief assigned the brilliance known as Kaiba Seto to the case. His exact words: 'You're the best we've got. I hope you won't let us down.'"

Though he'd only known Kaiba for their three minute introduction and the ten minutes it took to drive from the police station to the Game Shop, Jounouchi had already figured out that the shorter his sentences, the angrier he was getting. He wisely stayed quiet as Kaiba pulled out a thin piece of metal and inserted it into the keyhole.

"Turns out Chief didn't want to choose me. Reluctant. Personal issues. Was afraid I'd go ballistic. And I did, when I found out."

"Found out what?"

Jounouchi was suddenly subjected to the all-consuming terror that was Kaiba's glare. "Found out who got murdered. Found three suspects. Killed them all."

A shiver ran down Jounouchi's spine. "…who… who got murdered?" 

"By me?"

"No, the original victims."

"My parents."

With a click, the lock gave. Kaiba pushed the door open and stepped inside. Jounouchi wanted less than ever to follow, but he did. His best friend was probably in there somewhere, hurt.

The shop was meticulously clean, everything in its place. It looked undisturbed, sleeping until Mutoh-san would come downstairs and open it for business once more. Jounouchi felt the need to speak only in whispers and walk on tiptoe, at least until they made it to another room, hopefully one in which merely breathing didn't feel like sacrilege. Kaiba quickly took pictures of the room, then walked to the door at the back. With all the care due, he again leveled his gun at it, and pushed it open.

There was no foe waiting for them at the other side, and they both eased their way through. Jounouchi made to close the door so he wouldn't have to look at the shop, waiting for the next business day, one that would never come, but Kaiba caught his wrist and shook his head.

Silently, they made their way through the living quarters. "Which way to Yuugi's room?" Kaiba asked. His voice echoed.

Jounouchi pointed, and they went.

"Ugh," Jounouchi said on their way up the stairs. "More blood."

"It's not blood," Kaiba said.

"How do you know?"

"Blood doesn't fluoresce. This stuff does."

"…That's a good thing, then, right?"

Silence as they reached the top of the stairs. Then, "Which one is Yuugi's?"

Jounouchi motioned to the room they were standing in front of.

"You're sure the 'bloody' window was Yuugi's?"

Jounouchi nodded, so Kaiba began taking more pictures. When he finished, he tucked the camera away, and opened the door.

Yuugi was lying on the bed, eyes closed, neck and chin and face flawless under the moonlight. He looked arranged, position symmetrical, not one that any living person would ever choose to assume. The blankets covering his chest had bled through, and Kaiba knew that if they pulled the covers back, it would be to reveal the gaping maw of a wound probably still oozing blood.

"So if he's dead, who put him back into his bed?" Kaiba mused aloud, mostly for his own benefit, as Jounouchi was currently clutching the doorframe, looking pale and sick. Oddly, the first answer his subconscious gave him was, _someone who doesn't sleep_, and his subconscious was rarely wrong.

He looked back at Jounouchi pitilessly. "You wanted to come." 

A thought occurred to Kaiba. Somewhere along the way, he'd vialed some of the not-blood. He pulled this out now and compared it to blood on Yuugi's bed. They didn't even look similar. Yuugi's, at least, looked like human blood.

"There's someone else in this house," Kaiba said, turning faster than people generally tended to when not caught in a tornado. He slapped Jounouchi's shoulder. "Shape up unless you want to join him," Kaiba said, jerking a head in Yuugi's direction. "Come on."

He left the room and looked at the reddish floor. That wasn't Yuugi's blood either, staining the carpet. That was the same as the stuff in his vial. He followed it down the hallway, then frowned as it doubled back. Someone, bleeding (?), had come along this way, found the dead end, and turned. It had then… moved back to Yuugi's room. 

Kaiba's eyes widened. He couldn't care less about Yuugi, because he was dead already. But Jounouchi was still in there, and if Jounouchi, an innocent civilian, died while under Kaiba's responsibility…

He practically ran back, and burst through the doorway. Jounouchi was still leaning against the doorframe, still looking caught between crying and being sick. Kaiba followed the trail (there were two trails, _now_ he saw it; one leading out and the other leading back in) to the window. Some sort of fight had taken place at the window, and it looked like the thing that bled not-blood had crawled out. Or something else had crawled in. Or both? Actually, the much-abused window bore signs of multiple entries and exits. 

So why did Kaiba get the feeling that the bleeding thing had wound up somewhere inside the house? He turned around slowly, inspecting the room, and felt his heart give a jolt as he saw the suspicious amount of not-blood pooled around the closet door and its base. 

A picture, half-hearted, since he knew that a picture wouldn't be enough. He needed to know what was in that closet. 

Two long strides took him over to the door, and he paused, signaling at Jounouchi to take cover. After all, there was no guarantee that whatever was in the closet was dead. Or even could die. Surprisingly, Jounouchi noticed, and heeded, crouching by Yuugi's bed, though careful not to look at its occupant.

Taking a deep breath, steadying his gun (a rather pitiful weapon against something that might or might not be human, Kaiba noted grimly), Kaiba slid the closet door open, careful to shy away from it as a particularly bloody part folded out and towards Kaiba's body. 

"Jounouchi?" Kaiba asked, after a few moments. "Do you know these two? Excuse me, _did_ you know these two?"


	3. Newspaper Clippings : Three Takes

(Domino Digest - 9 March, Friday.  Page A9 – News)

DOMINO, JAPAN – Police are baffled about the recent attack on a small home and store in Southern Domino, according to police chief Otogi Ryuuji. One of his officers, Kaiba Seto, was on the scene about 20 minutes after a witness reported hearing noise and spotting what appeared to be blood on the window.

"It wasn't blood," Kaiba said, but refused to give any more information on the matter. Concerning the nature of the attacks, Kaiba said there were three dead and two injured. 

The injured were Mutoh Sugoroku, 72, and reportedly his daughter, who are now in stable condition at an unspecified hospital. They were both found unconscious in the storage room of the Kame Game Shop, which Mutoh (elder) owns. Mutoh's home, connected to the game shop, seemed to have been the main target of the bewildering attack Thursday the 8th. 

One of the three dead was Mutoh Yuugi, 16, grandson of the shop's owner. "[Kaiba] found Yuugi in his bed with a fatal wound in his chest," Otogi said. He refused to comment concerning the other two dead, except to say that, "Nobody seems to know who they are."

--

(Domino Digest - 9 March, Friday. Page C1 - Human Interest/Commentary)

DOMINO, JAPAN – There was blood splattered all over Mutoh Yuugi's window. The inside of his home wasn't much better. Blood trails made their way along the upstairs hallway. Dribbles of it leaked down the railing of the stairs, but most of the ground floor was spotless, indicating that whatever transpired in that small, rural house, it began upstairs. Mutoh's room was the worst of it. Blood, all over the carpet. Blood, all over the windowsill. Blood, all over Mutoh's bed. Blood, spilling from the open wound that dominated his fragile chest.

Up until Thursday night, Mutoh Yuugi had been the average high school student. He had been studying hard that night. Friends said he had been nervous about the science presentation he was going to have to deliver the next day. 

Now, he'll never have to worry about telling his class how crude oil is distilled.

Investigators were at the scene as soon as they possibly could, but it was already too late. Three had died that night. For Mutoh, it was by a dagger through his chest. The bloodied knife was later found across the room. 

At the exact time Mutoh was brutally murdered, Mazaki Anzu, a classmate and friend, had been reviewing for a math test. Honda Hiroto had been feeding his dog. Bakura Ryou had been reading a novel. Less than an hour later, they were all summoned to the police station and given the tragic news.

There is so much mystery shrouding Mutoh's death that justice cannot be done. No one has any idea who might have murdered a young man with a bright future ahead of him. The police could not find any leads; the witnesses are all either dead or unconscious. And so the criminal goes unpunished. And so another life is lost. We can only pray that, for the remaining family members, the comfort provided by Mutoh's friends will be enough to mitigate the wound that has been so deeply made. 

--

(Domino Digest - 9 March, Friday. Page A12 - Obituaries.)

Mutoh Yuugi passed away Thursday, March 8th, a victim of an attack in his home. His funeral will be on Monday, March 12. Everyone is welcome.


	4. Mulct

"What must I do?" Those were the first words out of his mouth when the priest settled himself behind the curtain.

"D… do?" The priest parroted, swallowing heavily.

"For forgiveness."

"For…!" He started to say something along the lines of 'Forgiveness? You?', but quickly reconsidered and stopped himself. The idea of a demon wanting forgiveness was just too ridiculous to pursue for long without his brain feeling like mush. "Well… well, you just… tell me what you've done wrong. And, and according to that, I'll tell you what you need to do for absolution." The priest considered adding that in this case, sacraments were completely unnecessary since even God couldn't be _that_ forgiving, but the will for survival out ruled complete honesty.

"I've killed a lot of people. Does that count?"

The priest nearly choked on the disinterested way the demon spoke of killings. "You'll have to be more specific than that," he stammered out nervously, though he really didn't want to hear any of it.

"What, list everyone I've killed? They all seem to blend together after a while. I can't keep track of them all. Blood is blood. I mean, there's this one woman whom I could've sworn I'd already killed several times, but I keep seeing her around. But humans are all rather alike, so maybe not."

Even at such a serious time, the demon felt inner laughter bubbling up. It was really so fun scaring priests. He couldn't resist continuing, "But I do remember this other woman, she was really fat, who laughed a lot. She just kept on laughing. The more scared she got, the more she laughed. Though it was pretty nervous-sounding laughter. She was still laughing when I cut off her--"

The door opened behind the demon, and in one sudden motion, he was out of his seat, turned around, with one arm around the intruder's neck while the other hurriedly scrabbled for grip.

"Yes, lovely to see you too," the intruder said, voice slightly muffled by the demon's upper arm and elbow.

The demon paused, grip loosening slightly. "Bakura?" He looked down, affirmed that it was, indeed, who he thought it was, and let go. "That was fast."

"That's better," Bakura said, straightening up and stretching, cat-like. Then the easy comfort on his face was replaced by joking (?) annoyance. "Why the heck are you here, of all places? Do you have any idea how long it took me to find you?"

"How long?"

"Well, okay, only about ten minutes. But that's still a long time for me!"

The first demon shrugged. "I didn't expect you to come looking."

"So what are you doing here?" Bakura motioned to the curtain. "A priest?"

"I was at confession." The first demon twisted his lips into an expression of irritated regret. "Until you arrived, that is."

"Couldn't help myself. You know how it is. Besides, what makes you think it would've worked?"

"Why not?"

"Because you're you!" Bakura sighed, crossed his arms. "Self-proclaimed _Yuugiou_, had to take on the mysteriously undefeatable opponent?" A smirk began to form on his lips at _Yuugiou_'s annoyed expression. "Impossible odds, limitless penalty for the loser? Boundless, ask-and-ye-shall-receive prize for the winner? …Won? Opponent turned out to be Death? Received the 'gift' of immortality? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"I never wanted it in the first place. He can't expect me to keep it forever."

"See, that's the funny thing, there!" (Expectantly, _Yuugiou_ looked to the direction towards which Bakura was pointing, but saw nothing particularly droll.) "Everyone dies, so nothing can last forever. But he can expect you to keep your immortality forever… or at least as long as you've got it!"

"…Ah. Funny."

Bakura shook his head. "You know what your problem is? You have no appreciation for irony."

"I have many problems, and that, as far as I know, is not one of them. Now are you going to go away and let me continue this, or do you actually have a purpose for being here?"

"Oh yeah." Bakura tossed a newspaper at _Yuugiou_, who caught it with a flick of his wrist and a sharp smacking sound. "Malik and I are famous. Though nobody knows who we are, apparently." He snapped his fingers in an exaggerated show of concentration. "Page A9, A… 12, I think, and front page of the Local section. That's section C."

There was silence but for the rustling of the newspaper, then more silence, then more rustling as the newspaper hit to the floor. "What's the date? Today."

"The eleventh." Bakura glanced quickly at his watch. "But back in Japan, it's already the twelfth."

"Funeral? Today?"

Bakura nodded. "So the papers say."

"Then… then I should hurry."

"Give it up already, would you? You're not going to get un-undead-ified, so why don't you just accept it? Take care of Yuugi the way you took care of Malik and me. I'm sure you'll get used to it eventually."

"And look how you two turned out," _Yuugiou_ snapped bitterly. "One kills an innocent child while the other knocks innocent bystanders unconscious."

"Hey, hey, calm down!" Bakura held up his hands disarmingly. "At least I was the one doing the knocking. You can't blame Yuugi's death on me. Well, you did, I think, because that knife you stuck through my stomach didn't look particularly friendly. But see, there was no logic there, because I was just the knocker, okay?"

"You were as much to blame as Malik was, because you distracted me from stopping him."

"And that's why you killed both of us and shoved us in body bags?"

"I shoved you in the closet. The police shoved you in body bags."

"And boy, that was not a pleasant experience, let me tell you. Though I bet now the police are wondering how a corpse just got up and walked away."

"Two?"

"No, Malik's staying put. Maybe you've killed him one too many times?"

"Immortality lasts forever, Bakura. It doesn't wear off. Though I'd gladly be killed any number of times, if only to prevent Yuugi from becoming one of us."

"That, my friend, was your fault."

"No, it wasn't."

"You bit him. Who can we blame, d'you think?"

"You—Well, your partner stabbed him through the chest! What was I supposed to do, just let him die?"

"But if you suddenly become a mortal, and this somehow changes Yuugi to a mortal as well, wouldn't he be just as dead?"

"Better than having to kill others for survival. That would break him."

"So you bit him anyways."

"I couldn't let him die!"

"But now you can."

"Bakura, would you just shut up? For a minute? Let me think?"

"There's nothing to think about, O King. Nothing you can do. Might as well welcome Yuugi when he wakes up."

"He won't wake up," _Yuugiou_ muttered flatly, looking back at the curtain. "Not if I can help it."

"Then I've got a little piece of advice for you," Bakura said with a drawn-out sigh. "If you want to confess your sins and whatever, get a new priest. One with a head."

"_That_ was your fault."

"What can I say? He had it coming."


	5. You May Now Kiss the Bride

Otogi squinted into the bright sunlight and nodded at the brunette, extending the perfunctory hand and smiling the humorless smile. "Mazaki-san, is it?"

She nodded a bit distractedly, took his hand but didn't bothering to shake it, attention obviously focused on searching the yard. Whatever she was looking for she seemed to have found, because she let Otogi's hand fall and wandered off, fuzzily murmuring something that might have been a greeting, an excuse, or an apology. Shrugging, Otogi leaned back against the fence and waited for the next of Mutoh's friends and family. He wondered if they would all be so zombie-like, and then winced, because the pun, however unintentional, had been pretty tasteless. 

A few feet away, Kaiba Seto stood behind the refreshment table, busily occupying himself with being anti-social. Otogi, the loony, had, upon seeing Jounouchi's stricken expression, _ordered_ Kaiba to the funeral, or so help him he would make the rest of Kaiba's career a short and painful one. And so here he was, trying to hide behind the punch bowl without doing anything so undignified as stooping, glaring at anyone who contrived to so much as look thirsty. 

None of the people present seemed too concerned with beverages, however.

Most of them were milling around uncertainly, attempting half-hearted conversation. The sun was scorching, but everybody, whether consciously or not, stayed away from the shadow, because… well, because the building that cast it was the funeral home. Everyone was willing to risk a bit of sunburn, if only to stay away from reminders of Yuugi's death.

Then again, this was Yuugi's funeral. How, exactly, they were supposed to avoid these reminders was uncertain, but they were putting up an admirable effort. 

At least until their somberly dressed pastor stepped through the door. At once, all eyes snapped up, like muscles long tensed in the crouch finally stretching in some places and contracting in others towards the end result of leaping. It was therefore understandable when the pastor stumbled backwards slightly under the intensity of their collective gazes. A few seconds passed, and then the pastor cleared his throat, a nervous and slightly wet sound. 

 "If, if we might all move this way?" He suggested, motioning with his black-clad arms back toward the funeral home. "We hope we might hold a wake over the deceased and offer our final farewells before we see him into the ground?"

There was some more awkward silence, in which the pastor wondered what to do next. To his relief, Otogi stood and, putting one foot behind the other, turned gracefully to face the general gathering. He flicked back a renegade strand of hair and half shrugged, half smiled. "Well? You heard the man, let's go!" That was the only catalyst needed to stir everyone into movement. Soon they were all following the pastor into the building, amidst idle chatter that was grantedly hesitant, but at least there.

And then the talking was quite suddenly not there. Voices were caught in throats as those who had been walking more quickly saw the coffin, and those who were nearer to the back caught sight of the stricken expressions spreading from face to paly face.

Yuugi's height was a trivial enough matter, but it had caused some concern among those who had been assigned the matter of finding the right coffin. Wouldn't he and his loved ones be offended if the body was put into a tiny coffin? But if he was put into a full-sized coffin, wouldn't his short stature be all the more apparent because of all the unfilled space? They had settled for putting him into an average-sized coffin and settling an impersonally black blanket over his waist, legs, and then over all the empty space between his polished black shoes (visible as two small bumps around where the average man's knees would be) and the foot of the coffin. From this it was obvious that whoever had made the decision hadn't known Yuugi very well; Yuugi hadn't been proud of being small, certainly not, but he had accepted it as a part of who he was. 

This last attempt to disguise him for someone he wasn't might have sparked anger in his friends if they had been less preoccupied. But it didn't, because they were, indeed, preoccupied—with the pallor of his skin, the way his white hands stood out against the ironed black suit and the black of the coffin, but above all with the _stillness_. 

Not one of them had known what to expect when they'd received a call saying to come to the funeral, but many of the general images had included Yuugi looking much as he had in life, wearing the school uniform or jeans or something. If they had included Yuugi lying down, it was violently juxtaposed with images of Yuugi's bed, Yuugi's pajamas, Yuugi's chest moving subtly up and down with breath. Yuugi in a coffin just didn't seem right. Yuugi in a coffin kept flickering and turning into Yuugi breathless on the beach, Yuugi lying on a rug, Yuugi dozing on the bus. Or at least, that was how it had worked when they were only imagining the wake.

At the moment, the image of Yuugi in his too-big coffin was depressingly solid.

One by one, Yuugi's friends turned away: first Honda, and then, seeing him, Ryou too, who had wanted to but wondered if it was all right. Jounouchi soon followed, and then Mai, who didn't even go to his school, but somehow knew him anyway. Pretty soon, only Kaiba was facing the coffin, and he wasn't even looking at Yuugi, instead alternating Can-I-go-_now?_ looks at Otogi and Mokuba-don't-touch-that! looks at his brother. 

"Hey," Jounouchi said suddenly, voice only slightly ragged. "Remember that time we snuck over to Yuugi's house and put a bag of flour over the front door? But grandpa who opened the door instead of Yuugi?" He grinned feverishly through his tears. "And then he automatically assumed it'd been my idea for some reason, and came after me with his broomstick?"

"That's because it _was_ your idea," Anzu muttered.

"And when Yuugi woke up, and he came downstairs to see his grandfather covered in flour and chasing Jounouchi around the living room with a broomstick?" Ryou volunteered.

"Which he threw at Jounouchi, and missed, and left a permanent mark on the wall."

"We painted over that, remember? But you can still see it if you have all the lights on."

"Yeah, and we also splattered the paint all over the floor."

"We cleaned that up eventually!"

"Because grandpa was threatening us with a piece of cardboard."

Otogi had to admit: he was interested. Who knew one man could have so many grandchildren? And threaten them with cardboard, of all things?

"I think the cardboard wasn't as much the threat as the scissors were."

"You know he would never attack you with a pair of scissors! Now, Jounouchi on the other hand…"

"Hey! I'll have you know he's plenty fond of me!"

"When you're not waving wet paintbrushes around--"

"--covering him with flour--"

"--tearing down his house--"

"--driving him mad--"

When everyone had finished making their contributions, a sort of relieved hush passed among them. This was what a funeral should be, not starched suits and standing in a respectfully quiet circle, drinking lemonade.

"What do you say we close the coffin now?"

There was a general murmur of relieved agreement, and they all turned around again. (Kaiba had long since disappeared, dragging along one very disappointed, bushy-haired child, who had very much wanted to hear about the flour incident.) Yuugi was lying undisturbed in his coffin, of course, and everyone cringed to once again see the affected position he was in. No one could possibly think that lying with his hands folded over his chest like that was comfortable. ("Not that it mattered much now," the thought went around, and was viciously kicked.) People exchanged looks, uncertain of the protocol in this kind of situation. Then two figures appeared, inexplicably dipping wet, and drew the looks in like a vacuum. 

And there was silence.

"Time?" The shorter figure asked after a pause.

After a quick consultation with his wrist, the other replied, "Just about one."

_Yuugiou_ nodded, and did some quick calculation, apparently unconcerned with the gaping people around him. "Three days and… three sets of three hours… if we say that… _it_ happened at four in the morning…" he mumbled quietly. "Yes. We are just in time." He approached the coffin cautiously, but stopped about a foot away. Then he smiled tightly over his shoulder. "I think it worked, Bakura." He turned, nodded. "He's dead. Otherwise, he would've awoken by now."

Bakura raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"You don't have to believe me," _Yuugiou_ said, laughing the relieved chuckle of acquitteds everywhere. "But yes, we've done it. We--"

There was a mumbling sound, almost inaudible, but still _Yuugiou _heard it and froze. Then, equally infinitesimal in volume, was the soft sigh of fabric sliding across fabric. Judging by the wide-eyed expression of the funeral-goers all around him, he really didn't want to turn around, but he did anyway. Instantly, recognition shone in Yuugi's eyes.

"Yami!" He was sitting up and beaming. Later, he would take notice of the fact that he was sitting in a coffin, of the shock in everyone's eyes. For now, he only felt pleasantly awake. 

"Silly me," Bakura muttered in a sarcastic aside for _Yuugiou_'s ears only, while Yuugi stretched, "thinking it was impossible."

Then Yuugi had finished rubbing his eyes, and was speaking again. "Yami, I'm so glad you're here! I was having the weirdest dream… Yami, what's the matter? Aren't you happy to see me? …Yami?"****

**End.**


End file.
